


In the Silence

by MeghanAnna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanAnna/pseuds/MeghanAnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie nights with her friends had been going on for years. In the last few months, though, they changed for Clarke. It wasn’t about watching the movie with everyone else. While they watched the movie, Clarke watched Bellamy in the dark. It didn’t make sense. She never even looked away when he would look over at her, undoubtedly feeling the heat of her gaze on him. And on this night, the night that started it all, the look in his eye when he caught her wasn’t one of amusement, concern, or question. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was just as heated as her look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I can't listen to music without seeing a perfectly outlined Bellarke story. I'm not even sorry. This one's based off _You Are In Love_ by a little, unknown artist named Taylor Swift. Maybe you've heard of her? I don't know... I think she's going places.

Movie nights with her friends had been going on for years. In the last few months, though, they changed for Clarke. It wasn’t about watching the movie with everyone else. While they watched the movie, Clarke watched Bellamy in the dark. It didn’t make sense. She never even looked away when he would look over at her, undoubtedly feeling the heat of her gaze on him. And on this night, the night that started it all, the look in his eye when he caught her wasn’t one of amusement, concern, or question. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was just as heated as her look. But, then, he swallowed and turned back to watch the movie.

One minute, he silently started fuming on the other end of her couch, just waiting for the credits to start rolling, and Clarke knew it was going to be another one of those dumb fights. Even with his hand on her knee and his fingers tapping against her thigh, she knew. She wasn’t the only one who knew his complaints were coming, though.

As soon as the screen turned black, Octavia popped up from her spot on the floor, dragging Lincoln and Jasper with her. Monty and Miller untangled themselves from the chair against the wall and Monty switched on the lights. They were all gone before the cast list was even halfway through. The whole time, Bellamy sighed and complained about all the anachronisms—like he always did. Like he always would. They all should have known better than to invite him to movie nights.

“Bellamy,” she whined, pushing her toes into his thigh. “They’re just buttons on a coat. No one is looking that closely at buttons in a movie.”

“I am,” he argued, standing up. He pulled his own coat off the hook on the wall near her front door and put it on.

“Well, you’re a huge nerd,” she reminded him with a smirk. She stood up too when he glared at her, completely unamused. “It’s just a movie, Bell. You need to learn how to suspend disbelief.”

“If they’re making movies about real events that _really_ happened in history, then they should do it more carefully,” he said and she sighed again.

“Buttons, Bellamy,” she said again with a small smile. “They’re just tiny, little buttons.”

As Clarke said this, he started buttoning up his coat. Her eyes followed his movements while he continued ranting again. Apparently, it wasn’t just the buttons that upset him, but she was too distracted to listen to what else it was. His fingers deftly moved up from button to button and by the time he reached the highest one he’d do, her eyes continued following his expert hands—the same hands that were just on her knee and her thigh—to his collar where he popped it just so, leaving it down in the front but up in the back to keep his neck warm for his short walk home.

“What’s your problem?” He asked, dropping his hands and her eyes finally landed on his. He had his eyebrows raised in confusion, which made sense. She was _staring_ at him. Which, yes, she did in the dark quite often, but the lights were on now. She also realized she was standing exceptionally close to him. As his hands had moved up his chest, her feet moved closer to his body.

When her fingers started undoing the buttons he’d just done up, she heard him swallow and noticed his hands start to move toward her hips before falling back to his sides. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice deep and rough.

When the coat was finally unbuttoned, she ran her hands up his chest toward his shoulders and answered. “I’m going to kiss you,” she said simply, but her heart was pounding against her chest.

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed, finally putting his hands on her waist. She pulled her head back just as he started leaning into meet her and he leaned away again quickly. “What?”

“What did you think I was going to do?” She laughed, her fingers tangling in the ends of his hair at the back of his neck.

“Honestly?” He asked with a smile and she nodded. “I thought you were going to strangle me for whining.”

Clarke laughed and shook her head before standing taller to press her lips to his. He quickly kissed her back and wrapped his arms tighter around her, lifting her off the floor just slightly.

“I’m going to complain about historical inaccuracies more often,” he mumbled as he settled her back on the floor.

“Shut up,” she laughed, pulling him down to meet her lips again.

“Make me,” he challenged and she kissed him harder, biting his bottom lip, as she pulled him deeper into her apartment. His jacket landed somewhere in the hallway and she listened for the sound of the buttons hitting the wood floors before kicking her bedroom door shut behind them.

As soon as they were closed away in the comfort of her bedroom, clothes seemed to dissolve from their bodies. They practically fell into her bed completely uncoordinated and awkward. He couldn’t get her bra off and she had to swat his hands away after his third failed attempt. He pressed his forehead into the crook of his neck, tickling her face with his unruly hair, while she undid it herself and slid it off her shoulders.

When her chest was bare, Bellamy began pressing open mouthed kisses over her neck and down to the valley of her breasts, remaining there while he caught his breath. “Perfect,” he mumbled against her sternum before his fingers dug into her hip and his tongue slid over her nipple. She arched her back, but he kept her grounded with his hands and then his own hips pressing against hers.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she whined and he rumbled a laugh against her before moving up to kiss her again. She sighed against his lips and tried to push his boxers off with her feet, but he swatted them away and pushed her even further into the mattress. She relented and ran her nails over his shoulders and instead of a laugh, he groaned into her mouth and she felt fully satisfied with herself.

He pulled away from her and looked down at her, an eyebrow raised in question. “Are you sure?” He asked even though she could feel just how sure _he_ was against her stomach.

“Yes,” she promised, rolling her hips up to prove it and his forehead fell onto her shoulder before he began kissing a trail down her chest again.

He stopped at each breast, bringing her nipples into his mouth while his hand palmed the other breast. And then he kissed a wet, insatiable trail down her stomach, lapping at her navel and making her keen against him as he continued moving further south. He kissed each hip, nipping once before his fingers slid slowly into the waistband of her panties. She canted her hips to allow him to pull them down and he did so—slowly, torturously. They landed on the chair in the corner of her room and she would have laughed at his lack of coordination if he didn’t start kissing the inside of her thigh. He hooked her leg over his shoulder and kissed her one last time right where she wanted—needed—him most and she whined when he lifted his head to look up at her.

“Now or never, Princess,” he said, breathing so heavily it made Clarke’s heart pound even more. “Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t even think about it, Bellamy,” she warned and his answering smirk was the last thing she saw before her vision went black and her hands tangled into his hair.

He licked and sucked her to a perfectly overwhelming orgasm that made her toes curl against his back, her fingers tighten in his curls, and her back bend to a degree she didn’t know was possible. When he gently put her leg back on the mattress, she let go of his hair and looked down at him as he licked his lips and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back against the pillow as she reached to pull him up to her. When he was hovered over her, his brow was furrowed—annoyed—and she laughed harder until he began to push himself off of her.

“I’m sorry,” she promised, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him close. “That was _amazing_. It’s just… It’s you.”

At that, Bellamy began laughing and she kissed him so hard, she was sure she was cutting off both of their life supply.

“It’s me,” he said when their lips finally parted, whispering into her ear. The heat pooled deep in her belly again at the gruffness in his voice. “And I’m not done with you.”

“I haven’t even started with you,” she reminded him, rolling them over. “These are coming off right now,” she promised, pulling down on his boxers.

\--

Clarke sat in her bed, tucking her comforter underneath her arms, and looked down at Bellamy’s sleeping face. They’d been friends for years; they’d fallen asleep around each other a thousand times—during movies, car rides, while they studied—but not like this. Never in the same bed for the entire night. And certainly never after having sex.

He looked so at ease and so comfortable. She was tempted to push herself to lie down again, but then his eyes fluttered open and he looked at her. He laughed out loud before throwing an arm around her legs and pulling himself closer. He buried his head in her side and pushed the comforter away to kiss her ribs.

She let the blanket fall to her waist and tangled her fingers in his hair until he groaned against her. As he pushed himself on his elbows and trailed more kisses over her exposed skin, she sighed and rested her head back against the wall. “Bellamy,” she breathed as his tongue slipped out to follow his lips.

“Stop over thinking things, Princess,” he said immediately, pulling back to look up at her. She was sure he could see the worry in her eyes, but when he smiled at her, the feeling slipped away. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’d feel a lot better if we did that now and continued this after,” she said honestly, but her fingers were still tightly wound through his curls. “Please,” she said, pulling his head away from the swell of her breast and he licked his lips and nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed, sitting next to her. “Let’s talk.”

“We probably should have done this before I dragged you in here,” she admitted and he laughed. “Or maybe I should have dragged you in here months ago.”

“Probably,” he said as his hand slid under the covers to skim his fingers over the skin of her thigh.

“You could have done the dragging, too, you know,” she reminded him, swatting his hand away and he laughed again as he clasped his hands in his lap above the covers. She admired his restraint.

“We’ve been skirting around this for a year,” he said. “Or, at least I’ve been. I was waiting for you to show any interest.”

“I’ve been waiting for you!” She laughed and he shrugged.

“And it was the argument over buttons that made you realize I was into you?” He laughed and she sighed. She still wasn’t sure what had made her kiss him. Yes, she’d always been transfixed by his hands and watching him so carefully button his coat while he was complaining about buttons themselves was what made her stomach clench in desire and her heart pound with excitement. She also remembered the look he’d given her during the movie and it was then that she knew she couldn’t stop herself any longer. She couldn’t hold back for another second, especially not for another chance for them to be alone together.

“I just kind of jumped and hoped you’d catch me,” she admitted quietly and he smiled. She looked over at him and smiled shyly until his hand was on her cheek and he was bringing her closer.

“Keep jumping, Clarke,” he said and the breath hitched in her throat. “I’ll keep catching.”

She smiled before kissing him finally and they melted against each other. He rolled her onto her back and she planted her feet on the mattress for him to settle between her thighs. She was about to get completely lost in him when a car pulled up outside and reality came crashing back.

“Shit,” she said, pushing Bellamy away from her and he fell back against the bed. “Raven’s home.”

She was up in a second pulling on her discarded sweatpants. “Where was she?” Bellamy asked, running his hands through his already unruly hair.

Clarke rifled through one of her drawers and pulled on a loose fitting tank top. “Wick’s,” she said with a smile. “Your coat is out there. I’m just going to grab it so she doesn’t get too suspicious.”

Before he could say anything in return, she left her room, closed the door behind her, and ran for the coat at the end of the hallway. Just as she was bending to pick it up, the front door opened and she dropped it again by accident.

“Hey,” Raven called, tossing her keys onto the coffee table and shaking the snow out of her hair. Clarke finally stood straight and draped the coat over her arm. “Is that Bellamy’s?” She asked suspiciously.

“He left in a huff last night,” Clarke lied uneasily. “Something about buttons in the movie we watched.”

“And he left his coat here in haste? That doesn’t sound like Bellamy.”

“Well, you know how he is with historical inaccuracies,” Clarke reminded her and she conceded, rolling her eyes. “How was your date?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows and Raven rolled her eyes again.

“Shut up,” she said and Clarke smiled, sticking her tongue between her teeth until Raven laughed. “I’m going to take a shower, then let’s get breakfast. Invite Bellamy. We have to drop his coat off anyway.”

“I’ll call him,” Clarke promised and Raven nodded before locking herself in the bathroom.

She waited until she heard the water running before going back into her bedroom. Bellamy was on his stomach, his face buried in between her pillows. Clarke smiled to herself before tossing the coat onto his bare back.

“Ugh,” he whined, picking his head up to glare at her.

“Go home,” she said with a smile and he sighed, pushing his jacket off of him so he could roll onto his back. “We’ll pick you up for breakfast in an hour.”

“What is happening?” He asked, throwing the blankets off his lap so he could climb out of bed and Clarke almost launched herself at him. Now that she knew she could, she’d have a hard time containing herself. Especially when he was so perfectly naked in her bed. “Why am I hiding from Raven?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, sliding back into bed just as he pulled on his briefs and found his jeans.

“It feels dirty,” he laughed and she smiled. “Which I guess isn’t so terrible.”

“We could have some fun with that,” she agreed and he laughed again, turning around in the middle of her room, hopelessly looking for the shirt she’d tossed the night before. “Drafting table.”

“Huh?” His eyes snapped back to her and, for some reason, her cheeks reddened.

“Your shirt,” she said, biting her cheek to keep from smiling. “It’s on my drafting table.”

“Ah,” he nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Is this weird for you?” He asked as he walked over to the desk.

“A little,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulder. “But it’s new. It’s bound to be weird.”

“Which I guess means it’s a good idea to hide this while we figure it out,” he conceded and she nodded. “I can deal with that.”

“Thank you,” she smiled and he nodded before putting his hands on either side of her body and leaning down to kiss her.

“Thank _you_ ,” he smirked and she shoved his shoulder until he was standing tall again. Just as he was reaching for his coat on the other side of the bed, she stopped him. “What?”

“Raven saw me with it,” she told him and his brow furrowed further. “I told her you were mad about the stupid buttons and left in a hurry. And your jacket was left here. We’re going to give it to you when we pick you up for breakfast.”

“Clarke, it’s freezing outside. It’s _snowing._ ”

“I know,” she said quickly, standing up to put her arms around his waist. “I think I have an old sweatshirt that might fit you. You only live around the corner.”

“You’re serious?” He asked and she stood on her toes to answer him with a kiss. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

\--

When Clarke pulled up outside of Bellamy’s apartment, she looked over at Raven who still seemed oddly suspicious of the coat in her lap. Clarke sent Bellamy a text telling him they were outside and he was walking out in his own sweatshirt seconds later. While Raven and Clarke were bundled in their parkas, he was shivering as he slid into the backseat.

“Good morning,” Raven said. She turned in her seat and tossed him his coat.

“Morning,” he smiled tightly. “And thanks,” he said, holding his coat up before putting it on over his sweatshirt. “Clarke.”

“Bellamy,” she said and their eyes met in the rearview mirror. He smiled at her when Raven turned to face forward again and Clarke pulled away from the curb to head for the diner. The car remained silent. Raven rested her head against the window, Bellamy was focused on his phone, and Clarke’s eyes flitted between the road and the mirror. She couldn’t _stop_ looking at Bellamy now. And she needed to learn how to before someone caught onto her.

When the three of them sat for breakfast, Raven sat alone on one side of the table, tossing her jacket down before Bellamy or Clarke could sit next to her. They were forced to sit next to each other, struggling to keep a good distance between them. Bellamy asked Raven about her date. She made fun of him for getting mad about buttons. Clarke laughed when he turned red in anger yet again. And when he turned toward her, his anger was gone and replaced with an unnerving look of lust. She shut up and focused on the waffles in front of her and he chuckled to himself, hiding it with a sip of his coffee. Clarke didn’t have to look up to know Raven was looking between them.

And when the two of them unknowingly got invited to the same lunch with Octavia and Lincoln, things got even more complicated. As they sat across from his little sister and her boyfriend, Clarke got jealous at how easily things worked between them. Octavia could reach for the ketchup—just barely moving her arm—and Lincoln would hand it to her without even looking up. He could spill a drop of water on his chest and she’d hand him a napkin as soon as the liquid touched the fabric of his shirt. They made it look so easy.

All the while, Clarke and Bellamy were still learning how to be together, as more than just friends, but they couldn’t do it in front of everyone else. And while Clarke was watching the beautiful, at ease couple across from them, Bellamy’s hand slid to her knee and squeezed. It was quick, but Clarke knew he meant it as reassuring. He was seeing the same things she was. He was feeling the same way she was. And just knowing that _was_ reassuring. Because at least they were in it together.

\--

For weeks, the two of them snuck around behind their friends’ backs. It was kind of exciting, Clarke realized. But the longer it went on, the more comfortable she and Bellamy finally got with each other and their new found relationship, the harder it was to keep their secret. When they sat together in bars, she leaned into him too long and Jasper sent her excited smiles while Raven just narrowed her eyes until Clarke scooted away from him again. When they walked anywhere, his hand would start on the small of her back—which was normal for Bellamy and any girl he felt comfortable with—but then it would roam to her hip or her waist. It always seemed to happen when he was talking to Miller or Wick and one of them always noticed it long before either Bellamy or Clarke.

“They know,” Clarke whispered to him as they stood alone at a bar while their friends stayed behind at their table.

“They _suspect_ ,” he corrected and she rolled her eyes.

“Semantics,” she sighed, waving him off. He laughed, leaning into her so he could reach their pitcher. But she stopped him with her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly and his hands fell from the bar to her hips.

“I’m going to kiss you,” she smiled and he laughed before taking control and kissing her himself.

Kissing Bellamy had quickly become one of Clarke’s favorite activities, but she was used to his apartment or her bedroom, her car or dark corners. It was a whole new experience being able to kiss him back in the middle of a crowded bar with their friends clapping in the background.

“You want to get out of here?” He asked quietly after their lips pulled apart and he hugged her tighter.

“God, yes,” she said and he kissed her neck, her earlobe, her cheek, and then finally her mouth again. “Please.”

He smiled and grabbed the beer and the two of them walked back to the table together. Raven, Wick, and Miller just shook their heads with small smiles. Jasper and Monty were nearly falling out of their seats, shaking with excitement. Octavia’s face had fallen almost completely and her fingernails were making marks in Lincoln’s wrist.

Clarke looked up at Bellamy, who was looking at his sister with a terrified expression. She ran a hand down his spine and he looked at her quickly before turning back toward his sister.

“We didn’t-“

“Want to tell your little sister that you’ve been fucking one of her best friends?” Octavia finished harshly and everyone stopped smiling and turned to look at her with wide eyes. Clarke dropped her hand from Bellamy’s back and Bellamy’s face turned dark. Before he could say anything, though, Octavia’s face split into a grin and she laughed.

All the air left Clarke’s body and Bellamy rolled his eyes in her direction.

“Cute,” he said to his sister and she laughed some more.

“You’re idiots,” she told them. “We’ve known this whole time. We were just waiting to see if it was going to crash and burn before you decided to go public with it.”

“Yeah,” Raven agreed and Clarke sighed, leaning her forehead on Bellamy’s shoulder. “He left his coat in our apartment? While it was _snowing_? Please. I’m not an idiot. The whole apartment smelled like sex.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bellamy said, running his hand through his hair. “We’re going to go. See you assholes later.”

“I’m so happy,” Jasper said suddenly, just as Bellamy’s hand found Clarke’s. “It’s been such a long time coming. I’m just so happy.”

“Keep it in your pants, Jordan,” Wick said and Clarke pulled Bellamy toward the door.

“They’re holding hands,” Monty swooned and Clarke laughed into Bellamy’s shoulder.

As soon as they hit the pavement, Bellamy threw his arm over her shoulders and tucked her against his side—effectively warming them both. He left the happenings in the bar behind them and asked her about the drawing he found her working on when he woke up that morning.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “Just a doodle because your snoring woke me up.”

“I don’t snore,” he laughed and she snorted. “I don’t!”

“How would you know?” She asked. “You’re sleeping. I’m lying there awake, forced to doodle in the dark.”

“You love it,” he sighed, turning into a coffee shop that was opened late.

She did love it. She loved waking up to his snores—which really didn’t happen as much as she was making it seem. She loved lying next to him and finding any piece of paper and pencil to doodle his sleeping face, his unruly hair, the scar above his lip, or the dimple in his chin. It was almost unbelievable how fast it was happening, how fast she was falling for him. But, then again, she’d been falling for him all along.

She stood behind him as he ordered them coffees and she leaned her cheek against his shoulder blade while she looked for a clock. It was nearing midnight and they were getting coffees. Because that’s what they did. It had become a habit of sorts—sneaking away from their friends, getting coffees, staying up late walking and talking, and just getting used to being alone together.

After he paid and the barista went to make their order, Bellamy turned and leaned back against the counter. Clarke stepped between his feet and put her hands on his chest. “How do you feel now that they know?” She asked and he smiled slowly.

“Happy we don’t have to hide it anymore,” he told her and she nodded. “How about you?”

“I agree,” she promised and he kissed her quickly. One of her hands moved up to rest against his cheek and she smiled thoughtfully up at him. “So, are you, like, my _boyfriend_ then?”

“Yeah, Princess,” he laughed. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you,” she shrugged, stepping away from him. He laughed and smiled at the barista as he took the coffees and handed one to her. “Thanks,” she said, holding it up. He kissed her forehead and they left the coffee shop.

They went back to walking down the sidewalk, heading toward his apartment, and he asked her about Wells and how he was doing out in California. She rattled on about his life, what he was up to, and Bellamy really seemed interested. Which was really impressive because Bellamy and Wells never got along. Not ever in all the time they’d known each other. Bellamy practically cried tears of joy when Wells went to grad school across the country. But now he was listening to Clarke tell him everything. Not because he cared at all about Wells, but because he cared about _her_.

After a few seconds of walking silently, Clarke looked over at Bellamy. He had his coffee to his lips, but his eyes were pointed at the sky. His free hand was across her back and she just felt safe against him. “Hey,” he said, nudging his hip against hers.

“Hmm?” She hummed, hiding a smile behind her coffee cup.

“Look up,” he told her, pointing toward the sky. She did as she was told and gasped at the sheer size of the moon. It had been hidden behind his roof, but when they turned the corner, it came out of hiding.

“Wow,” she said, stopping. Bellamy stopped next to her and kissed her cheek as she continued to stare, trying to figure out if the moon was completely full or close to. When his lips moved farther down to her neck, she sighed and turned her body toward his. “Take me home.”

“As you wish, Princess,” he whispered, taking her hand. With one last kiss square on the lips, they left the sidewalk and walked into his building.

\--

Clarke shook awake the next morning—a gloomy Sunday—to find herself naked and alone in Bellamy’s bed. His side of the bed was still warm when she rolled over to bury her face in his pillow and she stretched out like a cat. She listened for him, but the bedroom door was closed, and she sighed. She dragged herself out of bed lazily and dug in his drawer for one of his t-shirts.

She padded out of his room and headed for the kitchen where she finally heard his muffled curses, but not until after she smelled the burning toast waft down the hall straight toward her. She found Bellamy over the toaster, trying to wrench the burnt remnants out. She could see the tension in his shoulders and back while he was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice her enter the kitchen at all.

She continued quietly toward him, running her hands around his waist from behind and kissed his bare shoulder, the back of his neck, and his other shoulder. He dropped the toaster and leaned into her, letting out a deep breath.

“You okay?” She asked, propping her chin on his shoulder. He nodded, the stubble on his cheek rubbing along her face. “Burnt your toast?”

“ _Your_ toast,” he laughed and she gasped, standing on her toes to get a look at the counter. “How do you feel about cereal?”

“I feel _great_ about cereal. I love cereal,” she promised and his eyes fluttered close until she unwound herself from him.

Clarke pulled the cereal out of his cabinet while he grabbed the milk. She moved past him and pulled down two bowls and he dug out two spoons. When she was about to pass him again, she put a hand on his chest and stood on her toes to kiss him quickly.

“Nice shirt,” he said, licking his lips.

“Thanks, I stole it from some nerd,” she smirked and he rolled his eyes, kissing her again.

“Well, keep it up and he’s going to steal it back,” he threatened playfully.

“I _dare_ him to even try,” she countered and he reached behind him to drop the spoons on the counter before pulling her toward him—by the hem of his shirt. “Bell,” she laughed, landing against his chest and he quieted her with his mouth against hers, backing her against the wall.

She clung to his shoulders and he leaned into her, hitching a leg around his waist. Her fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted her so her other leg was around his waist and she was pressed even further against the wall.

“I’m still wearing the shirt,” she breathed when his lips moved to the point below her ear that drove both of them crazy.

“Lift,” he said, nudging his shoulders up against her arms and she fell to floor and lifted her arms above her head until he’d successfully torn the shirt off her body and dropped it on the floor.

“Bedroom,” she said as they worked together to wrap her body around his again. “Burnt toast is the worst,” she laughed and he nipped her collarbone as he walked them back to his still warm bed.

“I’ll make up for the toast,” he promised, pulling off his shorts. He settled between her legs and she wound them around his waist again making him moan against her mouth.

“Hey, Bell?” She breathed, kissing him harder and he hummed against her. “ _Move_.”

He laughed and did as he was told. She met him thrust for thrust until he was lying boneless on top of her and she couldn’t catch her breath. She ran her hand down the back of his head soothingly until they could both breathe on their own and he rolled off her.

“Well, I definitely forgive you for the toast,” she laughed, draping her body over his chest. His arm went around her and his fingers danced down the side of her body. “But, I’m going to keep the shirt as interest. Okay?”

“Whatever you want,” he laughed. She kissed him soundly on the lips and settled her head against the pillow of his chest.

\--

After that weekend, things shifted between them. Everything felt so much more permanent. She always knew that if anything ever happened with Bellamy, it would feel that way. He was an all or nothing kind of guy. It might have been part of the reason it took her so long to admit her feelings—to herself and then, finally, to him.

After things with Finn and Lexa had gone south so drastically, she wasn’t looking for all. She was much more interested in the nothing she was forced into time and time again. It was safer that way; it would hurt a lot less.

But now that she and Bellamy were doing it and the switch had flipped, she couldn’t imagine going back. She loved waking up to the warmth of his body surrounding her. She loved watching him do anything—read, sleep, complain about buttons. She reveled in their quick kisses that had turned into habit. And she felt completely enamored when she realized he enjoyed doing the same things with her just as much.

He didn’t voice it, but she could see it in his deep, brown eyes. She could feel it in his feather light touches and the gentle pressure of his lips against hers. During movie nights, they cuddled against one side of the couch instead of on opposite sides—which made it much easier for Wick and Raven to cuddle in the newly opened space. Instead of waiting for the end of a movie to complain, Bellamy would whisper them into Clarke’s hair and she had to shut him up by kissing him quiet. She was starting to think he was doing it on purpose. But she didn’t mind.

When that switch flipped and Bellamy became her real-life, out in the open boyfriend, she trusted him with everything. She could deal with a few movie complaints and definitely some secret kisses in the dark. Because when she woke up on the anniversary of her father’s death, sandwiched between Raven and Octavia like she had the last five years, she was overjoyed to see him sleeping in the chair in the corner of her room.

Ever since her father had died and her friends found her hiding out in her childhood bed, refusing to see anyone, refusing to live a life without her father, Raven and Octavia would sneak into her bed after she fell asleep and make sure she didn’t wake up alone. Clarke was always the first to wake up and when the other two joined her in the living room, they never talked about—not unless Clarke brought it up first.

On this particular morning, she had a hard time getting out of bed. Raven was spooning her from behind and Clark, in turn, was spooning Octavia. She had a feeling that was how they usually slept—Raven wrapped around Wick and Lincoln wrapped around Octavia. For Clarke, it made no difference. Depending on the night, either her or Bellamy could be spooning the other person. They weren’t picky.

She carefully rolled Raven onto her back, well aware that she could sleep through truly anything. With her unlatched, Clarke was able to snake her way out from under her covers and carefully climb over Octavia. She was always trickier—a much lighter sleeper—but Clarke made it to her floor. When she was successfully on her feet, she chanced a glance at Bellamy who was watching her with a smirk. She sighed, smiled, and offered him her hand.

Together, they dragged themselves out of her room and landed in a tangle of limbs on her couch. Bellamy tucked her head under his chin and Clarke twined their legs together even further, breathing him in. With one hand moving down her back, over and over, as they laid in silence, Clarke almost started to cry.

Every day without her father was a difficult one, but the anniversary of his untimely death was always the hardest. But it wasn’t grief she was feeling. Whatever it was, it all pointed in Bellamy’s direction. He knew she would be upset. He knew she’d expect to wake up with Raven and Octavia, but that he should be there. He _knew_ and this overwhelming feeling of adoration for him swept over Clarke.

“Thank you,” she murmured against the skin of his neck and she felt him kiss her head. “He’d be really happy you and I were together, you know?” She asked, scooting back so she could look at him.

“You think?” He scoffed and she nodded, smiling.

“He always liked you,” she promised. “Really respected what you were doing for Octavia. He knew you were a good man. You just had an attitude,” she teased and he rolled his eyes. “He saw past that. He’d be really happy for us.”

“That’s good,” he smiled. “Because I always liked him. And I’ve always liked you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Blake,” she laughed and he smiled again. “We’ve known each other a long time. You can’t fool me.”

“Look me in the eye, then,” he challenged seriously and she did. “Tell me I’m lying.”

She couldn’t. His eyes were clear and honest. It was then that her dam broke and tears started rolling. His eyes got worried and she kissed him before he could ask what was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. It was all right. Perfect. Even on the anniversary of her father’s death, she could see past the pain and the heartache. She saw Bellamy.

“Gross,” Octavia gagged when she and Raven finally joined them.

“And by that, she means ‘What’s for breakfast?’” Raven said, shoving her into the kitchen.

“I’ll make eggs,” Bellamy said, rolling off of the couch with a quick kiss to Clarke’s head.

“I’ll make the toast,” Octavia said.

“Oh, good,” Clarke said as she joined them all in the kitchen. “Don’t let your brother near the toaster.”

“That’s funny, Princess,” he said, rolling his eyes and she smiled at him flirtatiously. “Precious, really.”

Raven looked at her with raised eyebrows and Clarke waved her off before getting out four coffee cups and starting the coffee maker. While the coffee brewed, Bellamy scrambled the eggs, Octavia toasted slice after slice of bread, and Clarke leaned against Raven’s side and rested her head on her shoulder.

“How you doing?” Raven asked and Clarke sighed, hugging her around the waist.

“Surprisingly good,” she said honestly. “How are you?”

“Great,” Raven promised and Clarke smiled.

\--

The whole world was against her. Nothing was going her way. The painting she was working on—one she was actually getting paid for, for once—wasn’t working out. She couldn’t get the colors right, the strokes all seemed so unnatural to her. It just wasn’t coming to her. She had to take a break, face down on her couch. She didn’t even care if she was getting her paint spattered clothes all over the fabric. Raven would get over it.

“Can you breathe?”

Clarke nearly rolled off the couch when she heard Bellamy’s voice coming from the front door. “What are you doing here?” She asked, catching herself at the last minute. Bellamy smirked and let himself all the way in, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes.

“Uh, I’m picking you up for dinner?” He said, checking his watch. She sighed when realization hit and she remembered they were supposed to join Miller and Monty for dinner at their new apartment.

“Shit, right,” she said, standing up. “I need to change.”

He nodded and she left him in the living room, but as she got to her room, she heard him start to follow her. “Everything okay?” He asked as he rested on the edge of her bed when she began to undress.

“No,” she said. On top of her work, she was also reeling from a call from her mother. A call that changed everything—and only a few weeks after the day her dad died. “Mom and Marcus are getting married. I don’t know how to paint anymore. And it’s been raining for five days.”

“Your mother and Kane are getting married?” Bellamy asked, standing up just as she pulled a dress over her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quickly.

“Clarke-“

“No, Bellamy,” she insisted, throwing him a hard look. He held his hands up in defense and waited for her to pull on her tights and some shoes. “Well, are we going?” She asked when she was finally dressed and he was sitting back on her bed again.

He chuckled darkly but stood up. “Let’s go,” he said with a hand on her back.

Dinner was fine. Well, as fine as it could be while Clarke was so clearly upset about something. And the more upset she was, the shorter she was being with her friends and—for some reason—especially Bellamy. As soon as the dinner portion of the night ended, Miller made it clear that the night was over.

She’d seen the looks between him and Bellamy. And when Monty asked her if everything was okay as soon as they were inside, she just shook her head. He knew her well enough not to push it any further. If she wanted to talk about it, Monty was one of the first people she’d turn to.

When she and Bellamy got back to her apartment, he slammed the door behind them and she stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. She wasn’t mad at her mother anymore. No, she was mad at her boyfriend and the hard look on his face. She hadn’t seen that look directed at her in quite some time and it just fueled her anger even more.

“What the hell is _your_ problem?” She spat and he clenched his fists before moving toward her.

“What’s my problem?” He scoffed. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is,” she reminded him and he just stared at her—waiting. “My mother is marrying my dead father’s best friend. That’s my damn problem.”

“We all know that your mother and I don’t always see eye to eye, but isn’t it a _good_ thing she’s marrying a man who loved your father as much as she did?” He asked and she just laughed, turning toward the kitchen.

While she pulled out a bottle of wine and a wine glass, she shook her head. “It’s fucked up,” she said finally, venom still spewing. “Were they in love this whole time and just lying to everyone?”

“No,” he insisted and she rolled his eyes. There was no way he knew that for sure. No one could, because neither her mother nor Marcus would never admit to it even if it were true. “It’s like that stupid ass movie you made me watch.”

“I make you watch a lot of movies you think are stupid,” she reminded him, leaning against the counter with her glass of wine poised near her lips. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one with the guy who died fishing and Silent Bob tried to kill himself with Jennifer Ani-“

“Garner. They were Jennifer Garner’s anti-depressants,” Clarke sighed, exhausted. “And the movie is _Catch and Release_ and it’s not stupid. But what about it?”

“Jennifer _Garner_ fell for her dead husb-“

“Fiancé.”

“Dead fiancé’s best friend,” he finally finished, stepping closer to her. “And you love that movie. Why can’t your mom be happy like Jennifer Garner?”

“Because my life isn’t a fucking movie, Bellamy,” she told him and he clenched his fists again before stuffing them into his pockets. “My dad is dead and my mother is marrying his best friend and I feel like I was hit with a ton of bricks, okay? That’s my right to feel like shit about my mother remarrying.”

“I know,” he said softly, taking out one hand to take the wine from her. “But isn’t it your mom’s right to move on and be happy? You’re happy, right? Don’t you want her to be?”

“She was happy with my dad,” Clarke answered quietly. “And I’m happy with you. But if you die, would you be happy to know I’ve fallen in love with Miller or Wick?”

“No,” he said honestly.

“See?” She sighed, running her hands through her hair.

“Well, Princess, Miller’s in love with Monty and I’m pretty sure Wick is in love with Raven,” he said with a smirk. “So, as much as I want you to be happy if I died, I wouldn’t want you to ruin our friends’ relationships in the process.”

“I miss him, Bellamy,” she admitted tearfully and he nodded, pulling her against his chest. “I just feel like she doesn’t and that doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” he tried and she scoffed. She put her arms around his neck and held him tighter as his arms wound around her back and his hand tangled in her hair. “Or you can keep talking to me about it.”

“Good because she invited me to dinner,” she said against his neck and he nodded for her to continue. “And I figured it would be a good time for me to tell her that we’re seeing each other.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling back far enough to look down at her and she shrunk under his gaze. “But your mother doesn’t know that we’re dating?”

“No,” she said carefully. Before he could say anything else, she framed his face with her hands and stood taller to kiss him. “You said it yourself, you two have never seen eye to eye. I was just waiting for the moment I _had_ to tell her. So, she told me she was marrying Marcus and I’m going to tell her I’m in- that I’m dating Bellamy Blake.”

His face softened and she got slightly nervous that he realized she almost told him she was in love with him. Because even though she was in love with him, she wasn’t quite sure after a fight was the best time to tell him. Actually, she wasn’t sure when the best time or what the best way to tell him was.

“And I have to be there when you do it?” He clarified and she nodded, smiling. He sighed before plastering a smile on and she kissed him again.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch,” she told him and he shrugged it off easily. “That call just sent everything spiraling. I need to get a painting done, too, and I just _can’t_.”

“Well, maybe if you stop worrying about the call and your mom you’ll be able to focus on it,” he tried and she nodded. “And you weren’t a bitch.”

“I was. I need to apologize to Miller and Monty,” she told him and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks for dealing with me.”

“Always,” he promised and if she didn’t already know she was in love, she would right then.

\--

Clarke had a bad habit of staying up way too late. When Bellamy stayed over her apartment, she’d drift off with him, but almost always woke up around midnight unable to fall back asleep. It wasn’t because he was snoring, either. It was just the way her body worked. Even if he was snoring, she never minded. It gave her time for her mind to wander and her hands to work on something that came so naturally.

Sketching Bellamy’s face was something Clarke could do with her eyes closed even if they’d gone weeks without seeing each other. She didn’t need him sleeping next to her to get even the most intricate details right. His face—his whole body, really—was imprinted in her mind. She knew that even if the ever broke up, she’d still see his freckles scattered across the night sky and his eyes watching hers in the dark.

But none of that stopped her from doing it while he was sleeping next to her. Drawing Bellamy was cathartic for her, it helped her shed the stress of her day, it made her fall deeper in love with him. If that were even possible at this point. He was a light sleeper, though, and he was adept at catching her in the act. He’d watch her for minutes before she even realized he was awake, too focused on the task at hand.

He told her once that he got lost in her pencil strokes, watching his face or the rest of his body appear out of nothing. He was transfixed by the look on her face when she did it.

“Huh,” he said and she dropped her pencil and clutched her chest.

“I hate when you do that,” she said, breathing unsteadily. He smirked quickly, but took the sketch book from her lap to look at her newest work.

She watched his features tighten in concentration and she got nervous. While he was looking at the dip in his chin on the paper, his finger went to the one on his face. His eyes trailed down the arms Clarke had drawn and she knew he was looking at the bruise she’d shaded in that matched the one on his actual arm. He licked his lips in thought when he glanced over the planes of his chest.

“You’re making me nervous,” she whispered and he smiled lightly without looking at her.

“This one is especially realistic,” he mentioned, finally wrenching his eyes from her work.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” she laughed, taking it from him and dropping it on the floor next to the bed.

She shuffled down in bed so she was face to face with him and sighed contentedly when his hands landed on her bare skin underneath her t-shirt—his t-shirt. He pulled her closer and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in deeply and squeezing his eyes shut.

“You okay, Bell?” She asked, hand on his face—rough from a day’s worth of stubble. She loved him like this—rumpled, exhausted, _real_. But she loved him all the time.

Slowly, his eyes opened again and she felt like she was glaring into the sun and she looked away, down at his lips. It was too intense, whatever he was hiding behind them.

“I,” he started sighing, pulling on her to get her attention focused back where he wanted it. Nervously, she obliged. “I lo-“ Bellamy tried again and she felt his jaw clench under her palm. Whatever was making her nervous behind his eyes was clearly doing a number on him, as well. She slid her fingers into his hair as her heart pounded against her chest. “You’re my best friend.”

A shy smile worked its way onto Clarke’s face as she hitched her leg over his waist and brought herself even closer to him. She kissed him slowly and he reciprocated by rolling her onto her back and pushing her deeper into the mattress. She didn’t care that her pencil was digging into her back or that he hadn’t said the words she was hoping for. He didn’t need to, though.

As soon as he told her she was his best friend, she knew exactly what she’d seen his eyes. He did love her. He would love her.

When his lips moved to her jaw and then her neck, she tugged on his hair and he pulled back to look down at her.

“I love you,” she whispered and he breathed out a deep chuckle that she felt throughout her entire body. And then he was kissing her again—feverishly as his hands slid even further under her shirt.

“I love you,” he said against her lips. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “I love you,” he nibbled into her collarbone. “I love you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> SOMEONE NEEDS TO STOP ME.
> 
> But before that happens, can you tell me what you think? THANKS!
> 
> Also, I have read and re-read the beginning of this like a thousand times, but not so much the end. Hope it doesn't suck too badly. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


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